As soon as he was dressed, the dining hall burst into activity again, though many of the fae continued to eye David with a mix of curiosity, condemnation, or fear.

“How are you feeling, mate?” Tamani asked, dropping into a crouch beside David.

“Better,” David said. “I could use another glass of water, though.”

Chelsea hurried off to fetch it.

“Any chance you might be ready to go back out there?” Tamani’s tone was casual, but Laurel knew he was anxious to get Yeardley to Jamison.

David pursed his lips. There was something haunted in his eyes, but he looked down at the sword and, after a moment, nodded. “I think so,” he said.

“Thank you.”

David closed his eyes for a few breaths, then opened them and reached for his sword.

“Not yet,” Laurel said, leaping to her feet.

“Laurel . . .” Tamani began, desperation in his voice.

“Let me bind your shoulder first.” His grey T-shirt was ragged and the sap on it had dried, but without a handful of binding strips the wound would certainly open again.

“I’m fine,” Tamani said, turning not so subtly so she couldn’t see his shoulder anymore.

“You’re not. You’re in pain, and you will be more . . . effective,” she finally settled on, “if you let me do something about it.”

He hesitated, then looked up at Chelsea, who was returning with more water for David. “If you hurry,” he said, relenting. Then, quieter, “We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll be fast,” Laurel promised.

She went to the nearest station and searched through the medicines that remained. “Can I borrow these real quick?” she asked, grabbing two bottles of clear solution and a handful of binding strips.

The faerie gave Laurel a nod, barely glancing up as he pulled a long cactus-spine needle through a deep cut on a small child’s shoulder, stitching it closed.

Laurel ran back to Tamani. “Take it off,” she said, touching his shirt.

Tamani glanced at David, then groaned as he lifted his arms and shed his T-shirt, pulling the sap-stained spots away from his wounds gingerly. He was oozing sap from a half dozen shallow cuts, and the deep gash across his ribs that Laurel had bound that morning was wet despite her patch job.

The wound on his shoulder wasn’t a single cut as she had thought – there were about five deep holes peppered across his upper arm. He pulled a sharp breath between his teeth as she dabbed at them with a wet cloth. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying not to lose her cool at the depth of the cuts that looked more like stab marks. “I’ll make it feel better in just a second.”

“Don’t,” Tamani said, stopping her hand as she reached for a bottle.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t make it numb,” he said, his voice still laboured. “I can’t move as well if I can’t feel it. Just put the healing tonic on and bind it. That’s all I can let you do right now.”

Laurel frowned, but nodded. There was no telling how much more fighting Tam would have to do today. “Just . . . just squeeze me if it hurts,” she said, employing the tactic her dad had used when she was little.

But rather than gripping her hand, Tamani wrapped his good arm around her hips, burying his face in her stomach with a muffled groan. Laurel stole a moment to run her fingers through his black hair before reaching for the bottle of healing tonic, determined to get this over for him as quickly as possible.

She tried not to pay attention to his fingers pressing into her leg, his breath soft against the skin at her waistline, his forehead planted just under her ribs. She worked quickly, wishing she could savour the moment, but knowing her indulgence would only cost lives.

“I’m done,” she whispered after a torturously brief span.

He pulled back and looked at his shoulder, covered in binding strips that would grow into his skin over the next week or so. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Laurel stared resolutely at the floor as she gathered her supplies and ran them back to the station she’d taken them from. By the time she returned, Tamani had taken up his spear again and was standing in front of David. “Ready?”

David hesitated for the barest instant before nodding.

“We’ll need to clear a path – I don’t want to risk anything happening to Yeardley – but I don’t think we should try the doors again. Let’s go out the same way you came in,” Tamani said, his voice focused and emotionless again.

“Over the railing?” David said, one eyebrow raised.

“You got a better idea?” Tamani asked with not a trace of sarcasm.

David thought for a second and then shook his head. “Let’s go.”

“We’ll help lower you,” Laurel offered, even as her head screamed at her not to let them go.

David and Chelsea were already moving towards the doors, and Laurel made to follow them but paused at the brush of Tamani’s rough fingertips on her arm. As she turned to him Tamani looked at her gravely, and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

He hesitated for an instant, then his hands found the sides of her face, pulling her to him. He didn’t kiss her, just held her face close to his, their foreheads resting together, their noses almost touching.

She hated how much it felt like goodbye.

The four of them left the dining hall and walked down the shadowy corridor, the sounds of the battle growing loud again with each step they took. The Academy was keeping the trolls at bay, but how much longer would the walls hold up against so many? And how many more battles could Tamani live through? Eventually, he would have too many wounds to survive. In spite of Avalon’s advantages, the trolls were winning on numbers alone.